


Feels Like Lightning

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Jon), Asexual Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Discussions of sexuality, Explicit Consent, I'm going to be honest with you I'm not sure if this falls under, M/M, Sexual Content, explorations of identity, or - Freeform, rating is for that and swears, sex-interested characters, sex-neutral characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: They’ve been together for three full months before Martin broaches the subject. Honesty, he meant to bring it up before then, but it just kept slipping his mind.And so it is as they’re sitting down for dinner at the small table in Jon’s kitchen that Martin asks, casually:“Do you want to have sex at some point?”~~~~~Written for Aspec Martin Blackwood Week! Not based on a specific prompt, just an idea that's been floating around my head for a while.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 207
Kudos: 919
Collections: Aspec Martin Blackwood Week





	Feels Like Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> _And oh, my little heart's in trouble_  
>  _Feels like it just might explode_  
>  _Why do they call it love when_  
>  _Oh, it feels like lightning?_  
>  ~[Feels Like Lightning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ce1s4B8x5ho), by Josh Ritter

They’ve been together for three full months before Martin broaches the subject. Honesty, he meant to bring it up before then, but it just kept slipping his mind.

And so it is as they’re sitting down for dinner at the small table in Jon’s kitchen that Martin asks, casually:

“Do you want to have sex at some point?”

Jon chokes on his drink, coughing and covering his hand with his mouth. “Sorry,  _ what?” _

“I said,” and Martin is starting to realize that this may not have been the  _ optimal  _ time to ask, “do you want to have sex at some point? With me.”

“Well, I would certainly hope you meant with you,” Jon quips, and Martin feels himself flush a little.

“It’s just, we’ve been together for a while now, and I know we’re taking things slow-” but they aren’t, not really, Martin’s practically moved into Jon’s flat already, but that’s not the  _ point,  _ “-but I don’t want to go  _ too  _ slow.”  _ For you,  _ he means. Too slow for you. Martin would be perfectly content if they never slept together.

“Well, I suppose it would be an appropriate time,” Jon muses, and Martin has to bite back a grin at how clinical he sounds over something this intimate. “I’m a bit tired tonight, though, and we do have to get up early. How about this weekend?”

Martin raises an eyebrow. “I’ll put it on the calendar.”

If Jon notices the dry humor in his voice, he doesn’t mention it. “Great. Might want to write it down as a movie night or something, though. Could be a bit embarrassing otherwise.”

“Well,  _ obviously.” _

Jon snorts out a laugh. “Then it’s settled. Pass the salt?”

~~~~~

Jon checks in with him Friday afternoon, stopping by his desk to ask if he still wants to watch a movie that night, and Martin struggles to keep a straight face as he replies that yes, he’s looking forward to it. There’s something faintly absurd, to him, that they’re discussing this in front of the others and no one realizes; it takes a minute for it to occur to him that people probably do this  _ all the time  _ and he never realizes, either.

It’s a minute after that, when Jon is already heading back to his office, that he remembers that most people would be getting excited, in a very innuendo-laden way, about the sort of evening plans he and Jon have, and he spends a large portion of the rest of the afternoon quietly laughing at the fact that sexual attraction is a real thing. It’s still hard to believe sometimes.

The thing is, Martin has known he’s asexual since approximately the first time he heard the definition. It’s just part of who he is: Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, extraordinarily gay, asexual. It doesn’t bother him. He’s run into a couple of people who’ve been dicks about it in the past, but he knows that’s their problem, not his.

It's just that the idea of looking at someone, and wanting their body  _ for no other reason  _ than that they look good, is so foreign to him that it slips into the realm of absurdity: the sort of thing that, if it were a world-building element in a sci-fi novel, he would find utterly unrealistic and would totally break his suspension of disbelief. The fact that it's  _ real…  _ well, it's just extremely funny.

And he wasn't lying to Jon: he  _ is  _ looking forward to sleeping with him. He finds sex quite enjoyable, when it happens, and he’s curious to learn what Jon’s preferences are. He hopes Jon takes the initiative in the future, though, otherwise he’s liable to forget again for another three months.

They should probably talk about that at some point.

Jon holds his hand on the commute back to his flat, which isn’t a rare occurrence, but it feels special, this time. Adventurous. They’re trying something new tonight, after all.

The sunset streaks Jon’s face in bars of gold as they walk the last few blocks to the flat, and Martin lets himself stare. He can see Jon’s lips twitching in a small smile as he feels Martin’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t try to stop him drinking in his fill. Jon is  _ beautiful. _

They cook dinner together, and Martin plays music off his phone. Jon sweeps him into a dance in the middle of the kitchen, swaying back and forth with his hands on Martin’s hips, and Martin laughs, and kisses him, and thinks he might just be the luckiest person alive.

They do end up watching a movie, while they eat - well, a documentary, really. It’s some overdramatized piece about odd weather phenomena, eerie music and an ominous narrator almost concealing the fact that it’s actually quite informative. When it finishes, they sit together in silence for a minute.

“Did you put the leftovers in the fridge already?” Jon asks, voice low.

“Nope.”

Another moment’s pause.

“We should probably go do that.”

“Agreed.”

Jon stands, pressing a brief kiss to Martin’s forehead as he grabs their plates off the coffee table. Martin follows him to the kitchen, and starts the process of putting the food away while Jon loads the dishwasher.

“I’d never heard of lenticular clouds before, that was pretty interesting,” Jon remarks, rinsing off a plate.

“Wait, really? I had a picture of them as my desktop background for, like, a month when we first started working in the Archives.” Martin tips the leftover pasta into the container that he had judged to be the right size, and frowns when it proves to be just a bit too small. “Damn.”

“There’s plenty of room left in this load, just move it to another container and give me that one,” Jon pauses, towel in hand. “But do you really expect me to know what your background was? I was hardly paying attention to your computer.”

“Yeah, well, you kept peering over my shoulder often enough that you ought to.” He transfers the pasta to a new container, passes the old one to Jon. “Though I must admit I’m extraordinarily tempted to make some crack about how you were distracted watching me instead.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely untrue,” Jon comments, and Martin bites his tongue. He’s not quite brave enough to ask what Jon was thinking when he watched him, way back when they first met.

Martin helps Jon load the last few dishes, then leans back against the kitchen counter. “Now,  _ personally,  _ I was fascinated by the whole ‘Brocken Spectre' thing,” he says.

“Oh, yes, that was good.” Jon leans next to him. “I’d bet good money there’s at least a dozen statements in the Archives about that. Probably more.”

“At least one. I don’t know about more, though, how many people are gonna fly over from Germany just to ramble on about a weird shadow they saw in the mountains?”

“It’s not  _ just _ Germany, it can be any mountains.”

“Yeah, but Germany’s the most common.”

“True.” Jon leans over, kissing him softly on the lips, and Martin suddenly remembers their pre-arranged evening plans. He kisses back enthusiastically, welcoming Jon’s tongue into his mouth as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and Jon swings around to pin him against the counter, hands framing his hips and body pressing into his.

Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s back, drawing him closer, before breaking off the kiss to whisper, slightly breathless: “Want to move this to the bedroom?”

Jon nuzzles the skin below his ear, lips leaving a slightly damp trace in their wake, and murmurs, "Yes."

Jon’s hands stay on Martin as they make their way to the bedroom, running over his arms, stroking over his face, once dipping down for a quick squeeze on his bum that makes him jump, then laugh. He’s touching Jon as well: hands on his face and chest, leaning into him so they’re almost pushed off course as they walk, tilting his head as Jon presses kisses into his hair.

Jon shuts the bedroom door behind them, then leans against it, drawing Martin into another heated kiss. Martin smiles against his lips; shifts his hips so he can press his thigh between Jon’s, and captures the gasp that draws out of him in his own mouth.

Jon’s breathing fast, words stumbling slightly. “H- how did you want to do this?”

“Sorry?” Martin’s kissing down to his collarbones; Jon slumps back against the door, gripping Martin’s shoulders as his knees, seemingly, go weak.

“How- I, I mean, I didn’t really think to pick up c- condoms or- or lubricant or anything, did you want to-”

“We should probably stick to just hands, then,” Martin says, breaking off from his work and lifting his head to meet Jon’s eyes. “If that sounds good to you?”

“Sounds great.” Jon lifts a hand, cupping Martin’s face in his palm. His thumb runs over Martin’s cheekbone, and Martin lets his eyes fall shut, sighing softly. He loves having Jon close like this.

Jon leans in, brushing a soft kiss to Martin’s lips. There’s no heat behind it, no passion, just an aching, gentle tenderness, and when Martin opens his eyes Jon is smiling at him with soft adoration.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon says, like he’s just stating a fact, and Martin’s own knees go weak.

“Keep saying things like that and we’ll never make it to bed, I’ll just keep you up all night talking,” he responds, and with the way Jon laughs and kisses him Martin doesn’t think Jon realizes he is entirely serious about that threat.

Jon takes his hand, leading him over to the bed. He sits down first, scooting backward so he has enough room to draw Martin into his lap, and Martin falls after him, one knee between Jon’s legs to hold his weight, a hand on the bed behind Jon’s back and a foot on the floor for balance, his other hand flat against Jon’s chest. Jon’s hands skim over his back, around to his stomach, under his shirt.

Martin’s breath hitches at the first brush of Jon’s fingers over his skin, and he whispers a soft “Go ahead,” into his ear when they pause at the hem of his sweater.

Jon tugs, and Martin swings himself to the side so his arms are free as Jon pulls the sweater off over his head. He’s got a t-shirt on underneath, but he bats Jon’s hands out of the way before he can get to work on that and instead starts in on getting off Jon’s much more professional button-up shirt.

Jon’s shoulders are twitching slightly before he’s halfway done; Martin glances up at him, brow furrowed.

“Are you  _ laughing?” _

“Sorry,” Jon says, and there is  _ definitely  _ a chuckle in his voice. “You’ve just got this really focused frown on your face.”

“Small buttons,” Martin shrugs, and slips one hand into the half-open shirt to press against Jon’s ribcage. That shuts him up. Martin grins. “Let me know if I should stop,” he says, and flicks out his thumb to brush gently over Jon’s nipple.

The effect is… interesting. Jon’s eyes go wide for a second, then fall shut. His lips twitch in a smile and he lets out a soft hum of contentment.

“That feels nice.”

“Good.” Martin repeats the motion, rubbing gently at the sensitive skin. Jon takes a deep breath, falling against Martin’s side as he exhales.

They stay like that for a moment. Martin alternates sides on Jon’s chest, paying equal attention to both of his nipples, and he seems to like it. For Martin’s part, he’s not really sure if this counts as erotic. Not for him, certainly - perhaps the sight of his boyfriend (lover? The word’s always felt too old-fashioned, but it seems to fit their current activity) half-undressed and arching into his touch should be getting him aroused, but all he feels is a deep fondness for the man in his arms as Jon hums again. He’s not even sure if Jon’s getting turned on from this, or if it’s just a nice sensual experience without being sexual.

Eventually Martin turns back to the task at hand, namely getting Jon’s shirt off, and he undoes the rest of the buttons one-handed. His other arm is still busy around Jon’s waist, supporting him against Martin’s side.

Jon sits back once the last button is undone, taking a moment to look at Martin. Martin is happy to look back.

Jon’s hair is rumpled. His shirt is wrinkled, hanging off his shoulders and exposing his chest but still covering his arms. It’s not quite the puffy-sleeved, frilled extravagancy that vampires and pirates are always wearing in a certain class of old films, but the associations are strong enough that Martin finds himself biting his own lip without realizing it. He could probably talk Jon into wearing one of those shirts. It would be a good look on him.

“I’m going to suggest we deal with our own trousers,” Jon says, and Martin glances up at him.

There’s a flush high on Jon’s cheeks. Whether that’s from looking at Martin, or from the way Martin was looking at him, is irrelevant. It’s irredeemably adorable.

“Good idea.” Martin leans in to kiss him quickly, then stands to start tugging his trousers off. Jon does the same, and for a moment it feels like an entirely normal night, as though they’re just getting changed into their pyjamas; then they both sit back down, facing each other in the middle of the bed in nothing but pants and shirts, and Martin’s mind goes absolutely blank on how they’re supposed to proceed from here.

Jon takes the initiative, moving forward into Martin’s space and starting to kiss him again. It feels much more intimate like this, with the bare skin of their legs brushing and both of them slipping hands under shirts to explore the warm skin underneath. Jon runs a hand over Martin’s chest, mimicking the attention Martin had been paying to Jon’s nipples earlier, and Martin finally feels the first bloom of arousal, low in his gut, at the contact.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, and Jon pauses.

“Yes.” He shifts, settling onto his knees in front of Martin. One of them comes to rest between Martin’s legs, almost but not quite touching him, and Martin takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says, and “Can you- can you hold onto me?” and Jon lifts the hand that isn’t on Martin’s chest to grab his biceps, and Martin takes a moment to lean forward and kiss him again.

Then he places one hand gently on Jon’s hip, and reaches down to carefully cup Jon’s crotch with the other.

Jon makes a soft sound, eyes falling shut again, and Martin can feel that his-

Christ. What is he supposed to call it?

Most of the words he's heard applied to the appendage in question - dick, cock - make his face flame, even with it in his hand. Some of the tamer ones - member, length - are less embarrassing to use, but feel a bit too 'smutty romance novel' for real life. Martin's always been partial to the factual - penis - but a previous boyfriend once told him that that was about as far from 'hot' as it is possible to be. Thankfully, he doesn't think Jon's expecting dirty talk, so he can set that problem aside for later.

Martin can feel that Jon isn't fully hard yet. He gently applies more pressure, starting to massage his fingers over Jon through the thin fabric of his pants, and Jon gasps, fingers tightening on Martin’s arm.

“Is this alright?” Martin asks softly, starting to set up a slow rhythm to the movement of his hand.

“Y-yes,” Jon stutters. “V-very- good, Martin, it’s good, sort of- electric.”

A thought occurs, and Martin lets out a brief snort of laughter, hand faltering.

“What?” Jon sounds almost offended.

“No, it’s just- sorry,” Martin giggles. “It’s just, you said electric, and we were talking about meteorology earlier, and I just had this sudden thought of just:  _ good god, I hope it’s not electric, getting hit by lightning would be a very bad way for this to end.” _

Jon stares at him in silence for a moment. Then his lips twitch. “Why yes,” he says, deadpan. “That would be rather inconvenient.”

Martin swoops forward, kissing him soundly, and begins to move his hand again. Jon breaks the kiss, turning his head to the side, breath hitching against Martin’s ear.

“I’m a bit surprised they didn’t cover any electric phenomena in the documentary, to be honest,” Martin muses, then gives a small whimper as Jon shifts forward, pressing his knee against Martin through his trousers.

“Hmm,” Jon smiles, eyes slightly hazed. “I’d have liked to see something on St. Elmo’s fire. Is this okay?"

“Yeah, you can touch me. I was thinking more, ah-” Martin’s thoughts skitter away for a moment as Jon presses a hand against him, then return. “I’d have thought they would have covered ball lightning, that one’s always a crowd pleaser.”

“Ball lightning?” Jon's hand stops, and he frowns at Martin. “I’ve never heard of that.”

"Wait, seriously?" Martin leans back, abandoning the growing hardness in Jon's pants in favor of returning his frown.

"Uh… yes?"

"Oh, it's  _ so  _ cool! No one  _ really  _ knows what it is, well, I mean, they do, but they don't know what causes it, but, like-" Jon lets go of Martin, leaning back on his hands and giving him a soft smile. "It's basically superheated plasma just, just floating through the air! Like, just what it sounds like! A  _ ball  _ of lighting, just drifting around until it burns out, hot and bright and- and, really, there's not that many recorded sightings of it, very little footage, but I've seen some  _ really  _ close up video online and it's- it's out of this world," he finishes, then pauses. Jon is still looking at him with that soft smile, listening intently, and Martin realizes that he's left his boyfriend half-hard in the middle of sex in favor of ranting about lightning. "Uh- sorry. Got kind of on a tangent there."

"Don't apologize," Jon says, waving a hand. "I like it when you get excited about things. Though I must admit I can't really picture what you're talking about."

"Oh, I could-" Martin almost reaches for his phone on the nightstand, then stops. "I'll show you some videos later?"

"I'd like that." Jon smiles. Then, suddenly, he's back in Martin's space, kissing him enthusiastically. Martin wraps his arms around Jon's waist, holding him close, and only lets go when Jon starts to squirm a hand down between them to palm at Martin through his pants again. There's a soft look in his eyes that Martin only sees for a moment before his own eyes drift shut; the same softness is in his voice when he asks: "Does this feel good?"

It does. It very much does, and Martin is unsure how long he's going to last if Jon keeps going like this. Still, all he manages to reply with is a very breathless:  _ "Yes." _

"Good." Jon kisses him again, soft and sweet, and Martin lets out a faint sigh of pleasure.

He forces his eyes open, wanting to see Jon's face as Martin's own hands return to their previous occupation. It's worth it: Jon's mouth falls open, breath hitching slightly, and his eyes go hooded and dark.

_ "Martin…" _

"Jon." Martin kisses him again; then, on a mischievous whim, asks: "So, ball lightning is my favorite meteorological phenomenon. What's yours?"

Jon laughs, sudden and bright. "I've never really considered it before." His fingers tease at the edge of Martin's waistband, but his face is set in a look of serious contemplation. "I think I'm going to have to go with iridescent clouds."

"Ooh, are those the rainbow ones? With the ice particles?"

"Yes, they only happen with high-altitude clouds." Martin can hear Jon shifting into lecture mode, and much as he loves listening to Jon talk about his interests, he's more interested in seeing just how much he can distract him at the moment. He presses his thumb down against the wet spot in Jon's pants, where he knows the head of his - where the head is. "And the sun needs to be at the right angle- the right- oh,  _ Martin." _

Distraction: successful. Martin kisses him again, tongue and teeth and lips, and Jon goes slightly boneless against him.

"I like iridescent clouds," Martin remarks when he pulls back, aiming for a casual tone and landing closer to 'winded from running up three flights of stairs.' "I wish they were more common."

"What- what do you mean?" Jon peels his face off Martin's shoulder. His hips are twitching slightly under Martin's hand.

"Well, I'd like to see one in person someday, you know? But I don't know how I'd even  _ start  _ trying to arrange that, I mean, how do you predict something like that?"

Jon frowns, and his hand stops moving against Martin. Martin gives a slight whine at the absence. "Martin, I see iridescent clouds all the time. It's why I like them so much."

Martin's turn to stop moving; Jon's turn to whine. "You do not."

"I do too. Any time there are cirrostratus clouds, just look up, pretty close to the sun but not right next to it. They're there."

"Oh, come  _ on." _

"I'm serious! People never look up, but they're  _ there!" _

Martin shakes his head firmly. "I do not believe you. They cannot be  _ that  _ common." He's actually quite willing to believe him, but Jon's cute when he's getting petulant about something. 

"Oh for the love of- let me just  _ show  _ you, then!" Jon pushes himself off from Martin, flopping back across the bed to fumble his phone from the nightstand. His open shirt flaps around him, utterly undignified, and Martin has to bite back a laugh.

"What are you doing?"

"I have pictures." Jon's pushed himself up against the headboard now, a frown on his face as he hurriedly navigates through his phone menu.

"Oh, we're bringing phones out, are we?" That's all the cue Martin needs; he crawls over to the other nightstand, grabbing his own phone and going online. "Let me show you ball lightning."

Thirty seconds later Jon is shoving his phone into Martin's face. On the screen is a slightly blurry picture of a thin and wispy cloud, zoomed in too close to see where it was taken. It’s smeared with color, a faint and faded rainbow splashed across the sky.

"This was just last week, right outside the Institute, I was…" he trails off for a second, face flushing as his eyes dart away from the phone and down the length of Martin's body. "...Sorry. I probably should have saved this for, uh, after."

"It's fine," Martin waves a hand, dismissing his concerns. He's still thrumming with energy, and he would quite like if Jon would touch him again soon, but first… "One picture doesn't prove they're common, though. You said you had loads."

"Yes, well, give me a minute to find them." Jon takes his phone back, scrolling again. Martin resumes his own search, and soon lets out a triumphant 'Ah  _ ha!' _

"Look.  _ This  _ is ball lightning."

_ “What the fuck!”  _ Jon snatches the phone from him, peering close at the screen. His eyes widen at the sight of a ball of bright blue energy moving over train tracks, sending out sparks that ground themselves in the metal. “What the fuck,” he says again, voice awed.

“Right?” Martin grins. Jon’s jaw is hanging slack, and he jumps slightly as the video comes to an end in a bright flash.

“That’s… play it again.”

Martin loops the video a few more times, unable to fight back his giggles at the utterly stunned look on Jon’s face. Eventually Jon lets him take his phone back and shut off the screen.

“Makes you wonder about some of those old myths,” he says.

“Yeah, I’ve read some interesting speculations about that,” Martin replies. “I mean, if I saw that flying past me in a storm, and I didn’t know anything about meteorology, I’d be pretty convinced it was some sort of vengeful nature spirit.”

“Yeah.” Jon’s eyes are slightly distant. His eyebrows jump up once, sharply, then settle. He refocuses. “Unfortunately I’m not terribly  _ familiar  _ with old myths, so I can’t offer any suggestions as to specific tales that may have originated from that.”

“Probably got some statements in the Archives, though.” Martin delivers it with just enough humor in his voice to set Jon off; he laughs, curling toward Martin, and Martin leans back into the warmth of him. “I know of one other video, if you want me to find it?”

“Yes!” Jon sits up again, then shuffles closer so their arms are pressed together while he searches. “And I’ll find those iridescent cloud pictures.”

Jon, as it turns out, has just as many pictures as he claimed. Most are faint, whisps of color predominantly from the red end of the spectrum; but a few are bold streaks painting the sky in brilliant hues.

Martin gives the appropriate oohs and ahs over the pictures, though he hardly has to feign his interest in a topic he’s spent so long invested in himself. Jon is as riveted by the second video of ball lightning as he was by the first, and Martin quietly resolves to find as many spectacular videos of electrical phenomena as he can, and show them all to Jon, just for the sake of seeing his reactions.

Gradually, their voices turn softer, more slurred. Jon drags the blanket up and over them both, and his eyelids start to dip. Martin has just enough energy left to snort, and grab his phone from his hand.

“Bed. You. Now.”

Jon just nods, and shuffles until he’s laying down. Martin curls up with him, and he only barely registers the feeling of Jon’s arm coming to rest over his waist before he falls asleep.

~~~~~

Martin wakes to a faceful of hair. It takes him a moment to work out why.

Jon has turned over in the night, shifting until his back is pressed against Martin’s chest and they are spooning. He’s very warm, through the thin double-layer of cloth that is their shirts, and Martin has curled up into that heat in his sleep, face pressed against the back of Jon’s head, and, yes, his mass of long hair as well.

Martin spits out a few strands as he moves his head back, freeing one arm from around Jon to pull them from his mouth. He loves Jon’s hair, he really does, but it’s not exactly convenient when they lay like this.

Jon stirs with the movement, sleepily turning over and pressing a kiss against Martin’s jaw.

“Morning,” Martin says.

“Mmm.” It’s about as eloquent as he expected from Jon; he is  _ not  _ a morning person. Martin kisses him back regardless, and Jon’s face twitches into a soft smile.

“Sleep well?”

“Hmm…”

Martin shakes his head fondly. Jon’s adorable in the morning, he really is: his hair loose and messy around his face, eyes shut tight against the early light, relaxed and pliant in Martin’s arms. His shirt has slipped off his shoulder over the night, exposing one frail collarbone and the bony expanse of his chest. Martin ducks in to press a kiss to the skin there, earning another sleepy smile, and-

Wait.

Why is Jon wearing one of his work shirts in bed?

Martin bolts upright. “Jon,” he says, dismayed. “We forgot to have sex!”

His movement has finally jostled Jon into opening his eyes, and he stares at Martin for one long, silent moment.

Then he bursts out laughing.

Martin takes a minute to register what he just said, and the volume he said it at. Then another to hope Jon’s neighbors have poor hearing. Then he joins in.

Jon is fully awake by the time they calm down, sitting up and running his hands through his hair to push it out of his face. Martin watches, smiling slightly, and when Jon turns around so his back is facing Martin he takes over. Jon’s hair is wild but soft, and Martin is careful to keep his fingers from catching in the tangles of it as he gently brushes it out into three even sections and begins to form a braid.

“Sorry about last night, though,” he says absently, mind caught in the gentle over-under-across of the braid. “I just got distracted talking, that sort of thing tends to slip my mind pretty easily.”

Jon hums softly. “Mine too, if I’m being honest. We can try again sometime soon, if you like, I know this is important to you.”

Martin’s fingers still. “Oh, um. It’s not- I mean. Sex is good, sometimes, it feels nice, but it’s- it’s not really a priority for me?” He frowns, contemplating the mood of the moment. Jon seems pretty aware of his surroundings at this point, and now’s as good a time as any. He finishes the braid quickly and gives it a brief tug, making sure it won’t come undone. Then he nudges Jon’s shoulder to get him to turn around. “Jon,” he says. “I’m asexual. I’m sorry, I know I should have told you before, but-”

Jon frowns. “Wait-”

“-it really doesn’t change anything, like I said I do  _ enjoy-” _

“No, Martin-” One of Jon’s hands flies up to his shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence. “You’re what?”

“Asexual?”

Jon does not look particularly enlightened by the word. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh!” He probably should have seen this coming. Jon’s a bit hit-and-miss when it comes to non-mainstream knowledge, and it’s not like the term’s especially common. “Okay, well, uh, it means- it means I don’t experience sexual attraction? That, that’s the dictionary definition, but there’s a lot of different variations...” Martin takes a deep breath, preparing to launch into his speech. He  _ really  _ doesn’t feel qualified to be the one giving it. “So, so for me, I still- I still experience  _ romantic  _ attraction, I get crushes and fall in love, I’m not aromantic. And, and I experience  _ aesthetic  _ attraction, I still- I mean, I still think you’re really cute, and when I look at you my heart skips a beat, and I could probably stare at you all day if you let me-” Jon is flushing, and Martin joins in when he realizes where his wandering words have taken him, “-but I don’t look at you - at  _ anyone  _ \- and, and… get turned on? Or, or start thinking, uh,  _ sexual  _ thoughts? It’s, well, I don’t really know how to say it, it- how do you describe an absence?”

He stops, looking at Jon, slightly out of breath from his rant. Jon is staring back at him, brow furrowed, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I- I’m sorry, that was- that didn’t make any sense, let me try again, it’s like-”

Jon interrupts. “Isn’t that just normal?”

Martin freezes. “What?”

He shifts, looking uncomfortable with the subject. “That. What you just described. Isn’t that just… normal? I mean,  _ I  _ don’t go around thinking about sex every time I see someone pretty, that’s just- I mean, that’s just  _ normal,  _ isn’t it?” There’s a faintly pleading note to his voice by the end.

Martin blinks once. Then again. Then several more times, for good measure. “Jon,” he says hesitantly. “Are you asexual?”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “What?”

“Look,” Martin says, and stops for a moment. He’s really,  _ really  _ not qualified for this. “If I told you, right here and now, that I was never going to have sex with you, how would you feel about it?”

“I…” Jon’s eyes dart away for a second before coming back to meet Martin’s. “I have a feeling the correct answer is disappointed?”

“There is no correct answer.”

“Fine, then,” Jon huffs. “I would be fine with that.”

“So would I.” He pauses again, then: “Just to clarify, I would also be fine  _ having  _ sex, like I said, it’s nice enough, I just don’t really… remember to initiate?”

“Likewise.”

They stare at each other for a second.

Then a thought occurs.

“Okay, wait, that’s not-” Martin says, suddenly flustered. “That’s action, though, not attraction, that- that’s different.”

“Okay,” Jon says, in a tone Martin knows means he’s willing to go along with what Martin’s saying, even if he doesn’t fully understand it.

“Look, okay, so- so you’ve said you think I’m cute,” he tries again, flushing.

Jon seems unfazed. “Remarkably so.”

“A- and you like me. Romantically, I mean.”

“Yes. I don’t think it’s too far to say you’re the most important person in my life.”

Martin’s heart skips a beat. He hasn’t told Jon he loves him yet, it still feels too soon, but in that moment those three words are on the tip of his tongue. He bites them back. “That- that’s not necessarily the same thing, I mean, platonic relationships-”

“Martin, nothing about my feelings for you is platonic anymore, believe me. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Right.” Martin feels a bit lightheaded. All the blood has rushed to his face, and Jon is still staring at him with that same steady, open gaze. “Uh, um… likewise.” That’s a Jon word. He’s spent so much time around the man he’s copying his speech patterns. It just makes his heart beat that much faster. “But, uh, but- sexual attraction is different.”

“I want to kiss you,” Jon says suddenly.

Martin’s eyebrows rise, startled. “Oh, uh, go ahead.”

“No, I mean- Martin,” Jon laughs, and leans forward to kiss him. “I mean, in a general sense. I look at you, and I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah, same here for you, but that’s not sexual attraction either.”

“Isn’t it?” His head tilts, confusion writ large across his face.

“No, it’s- no,  _ Jon-” _ The absurdity of the situation hits him, suddenly, and he keels over on the bed, laughter shaking him so hard he can’t sit up properly. “Oh, god,” he giggles. “I think you’re ace. I really think you’re ace.”

“Okay?” Jon says. He pauses, watching Martin laugh. “Uh, Martin?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin waves a hand, trying to bring himself back under control. Jon offers him a hand to help him sit up again, and Martin takes it, leaning against him for support until he finally gets his breath back. Jon waits patiently, an amused smile dancing around his lips. Martin clears his throat.

“It’s just,” he begins, “I’m always a bit nervous about coming out to people, some people can- well, some people react badly.” He scrunches his nose. Hysterical fit aside, this  _ is  _ a serious conversation, and he wants Jon to understand how important this is to him. “So it’s kind of funny, in a weird way, to think that you might be ace too and you didn’t even know it. Y’know, here I am stressing out about it, but this whole time… it’s just another way we fit.” He reaches out to grab Jon’s hand, and Jon smiles slightly, glancing down.

“Well, one way or another, you don’t have to be nervous about this with me.” His voice is soft. “Like I said, sex is… I mean, I’ve had relationships where we just...  _ never.  _ It doesn’t bother me. Kind of nice, actually, to not have to think about it.”

Martin stares at him silently for a second. “We’ve really gotta get you onto the AVENwiki.”

“The what?”

“Research,” Martin says flatly. “You need to do some research.”

“Oh,” Jon perks up. “Oh, that sounds good.”

Martin laughs, and kisses him quickly on the lips. Jon is just so…  _ Jon,  _ sometimes. “I thought you might like that idea. Come on, though,” because it  _ is  _ the morning, and they  _ do  _ have other things they need to do today. “Let’s go grab breakfast first.”

~~~~~

"Wait, wait, wait," Jon says later, around a mouthful of eggs. "You mean some people  _ aren't  _ joking when they look at a stranger and say they'd like to see them with their clothes off?"

"Most, Jon. _Most_ people aren't joking."

He shakes his head in bewilderment. "That's absolutely insane."

"I know, right?" Martin laughs, and leans forward to steal another piece of his toast.

**Author's Note:**

> All the meteorological phenomena referenced are real, all rants about meteorology are straight from my head with no reference information, and if you like, I will happily continue ranting about meteorology in the comments.
> 
> Ball lightning videos [here](https://cirrus-grey.tumblr.com/post/190244963962/collapsedsquid-ilfaitdusoleil) and [here.](https://cirrus-grey.tumblr.com/post/180008078517/belovedbysetandsekhmet-greater-than-the-sword)
> 
> Iridescent cloud photos [here.](http://www.atoptics.co.uk/droplets/iridim0.htm) And yes, they are quite common, at least in my area of the world.


End file.
